


Of NyQuil and chicken noodle soup

by AmazinglyMediocre



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Flu, Fluff, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, connor is a sick baby, no beta we die like idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazinglyMediocre/pseuds/AmazinglyMediocre
Summary: Gavin comes home to find a flu-sick Connor passed out on the foot of the bed. Fluff ensues.





	Of NyQuil and chicken noodle soup

**Author's Note:**

> listen guys i'm single and have nowhere to put my feelings and my desire for disgusting fluff. suffer with me.
> 
> also, this is highkey my first real attempt at proper fluff, so bear with me! the whole story feels kind of weird and swimmy, but it's fine it's chill

He couldn’t get home fast enough. The commute was hell, his head pounding and a cough scraping in the back of his throat while he took the bus back to his apartment complex. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus. He should have gotten his flu vaccine—not that it was likely to help. The flu shot was a load of bull, always the wrong strain or never quite strong enough to keep someone healthy.

He was just lucky Fowler had decided it was for the precinct’s greater good to send him home.

He stifled a cough, earning a few looks from other passengers. They knew he was diseased.

The bus stopped a block away, which looked like an eternity to him. He could see the windows to his apartment, practically miles away to his tired body. He slouched his way to the building and into the elevator, ignoring the judgmental stare from a resident when he pressed for floor three. He knew it was common courtesy to take the stairs up to floors two and three, but he didn’t have the energy for it. He was already inordinately exhausted from the walk.

He couldn’t get out of the elevator fast enough when it stopped, partly to get to his apartment and partly to get away from the other resident. He halfway hoped he’d passed on his disease, but not really. He’d only wish this hell on a couple of other people, both of whom he wasn’t going to name right now.

“Fuck,” he muttered when he dropped his keys straight out of his pocket. He glanced over to see his neighbor and her two kids leaving their apartment. “Sorry. Forget that word,” he said to the kids. His back and knees groaned in pain when he bent to pick them up.

Finally, mercifully he jammed his key into the door and stepped into the apartment. 

Connor dropped his keys and bag onto the kitchen counter, then walked to the bedroom and flopped face-first on the bed. He was sick as a dog. No, not a dog, he was sick as hell. He couldn’t even reconcile that phrase; it sounded like something a skater would say. He hardly had the energy to be frustrated with his word choice.

Somewhere along the way, he dozed off. It was sometime between when his face hit the bed and someone started shaking his shoulder.

“Another case solved with minutes left to go before I am up and out of here,” Gavin announced as he walked into the bullpen, then stopped when he noticed a distinct lack of boyfriend in the room. “Where’s Con—nor?” He stumbled past the pet name as he sat down at his desk. Hank and Niles were sitting at their desks, though one seemed to be getting much more work done than the other. Niles pulled his black turtleneck up over his mouth as Gavin passed.

“Con—nor has gone home for the day,” Hank grumbled. “Kid’s about the sickest I’ve ever seen him. I’m going to kick his ass if he’s gotten me sick.”

“Fucking Tina,” Gavin yanked his desk drawer open and pulled his keys out of it. “She probably gave him the flu.”

“Don’t say that word in here,” Niles spoke up without looking up from his computer. “It’s my trigger word.”

“What, fuck?” He opened up his timesheet on his computer and logged on.

Niles snorted. “No, flu. I’ve disinfected every surface Connor may have touched, including every part of your desk. I’m trying not to breathe your air since you’re probably already infected.”

“Nosy son of a bitch,” Gavin punched his timecard and stood up from his desk. “And no, I'm not infected. Unlike the rest of you, I got my flu shot. And since I’m the only one in this entire department who cares about Connor, I’ll see you guys later.”

“Carrier,” Hank and Niles said in monotone unison.

Gavin flipped the two of them off and walked out. 

He was on a mission he’d never attempted before: take care of a sick Connor. Even though Connor had been on the team for close to four years and they’d been dating for what felt like forever, Gavin realized he’d literally never seen his boyfriend sick. Even Niles had gotten sick once or twice, and that man was like a machine.

Gavin hopped off of the highway an exit early and hurried through the drizzle to get to the Walmart down the block. He knew they had next to nothing for soup or medicine at the apartment, and something sweet would likely help lift Connor’s spirits as well. 

At least, that was what his mom always did for him. If it made kid-Gavin happy, it would probably make Connor happy, too. It still amazed him that Connor’s teeth hadn’t completely rotted out of his head, based off of his massive sweet tooth.

Four cans of Campbell's, a one-liter of Sprite, a giant gatorade bottle, an ungodly amount of Tylenol, NyQuil and DayQuil, and an economy-sized bag of chocolate pretzels later, he was back on his way. The drizzle turned into sleet as he pulled into the apartment’s parking garage.

He would have taken the steps two at a time, but the amount of crap he was carrying was enough to slow him down.

Gavin walked into what appeared to be an empty apartment. Aside from Connor’s bag and keys on the counter, there were no signs of life.

“Con? You home?” He called as he set the bags of food and medicine down. There was no response. 

He kicked his shoes off and padded into the bedroom. Connor looked practically dead, lying face-down and half off of the foot of the bed. He was fast asleep, snotty snores coming from his throat. It was a ridiculous sight, a whole-ass man in business casual passed out like a little kid on the foot of his bed. Gavin sighed and just threw a blanket over his shoulders. He’d wake him up when he had food and a bath ready.

He started warming a can of chicken noodle soup on the stove, poured a glass of Sprite, and ran a bath before he dared to wake Connor.

“Con, it’s time to get up,” he knelt next to the bed and shook his shoulder, leaning so that he was almost face-to-face with his boyfriend. He felt much, much warmer than usual. “You can’t sleep here all night. Then I can’t use the bed.”

He was greeted with a groan and halfhearted shuffle against the floor, then a cough in the face. Gavin was eternally glad he’d chosen to get his flu shot. Connor scrunched his eyes shut and sniffled.

“Come on,” he stood and pulled Connor up with him. In typical Connor fashion, his boyfriend tried to rag doll back to the bed. 

“No,” Connor pulled himself further onto the bed. “I want to sleep.”

“Will you at least take a bath and change out of your work clothes? I don’t want to waste all that water.”

Gavin watched his boyfriend for a long moment, until he wasn’t even sure he’d heard. Connor gave a half-assed cough and pressed his face into the comforter.

“Laying on your stomach isn’t going to make breathing any easier,” Gavin sat down next to him. “Steam from the bath will help clear you up.”

Something like a muffled “Fine” came from the bed, and Connor shoved himself upright. He was a bleary-eyed mess, one side of his face lined with wrinkles from the bed and his hair a wavy mop that was still trying to hold onto its shape. 

“Come here,” Gavin pulled him close and reached up, tugging his tie loose and off of his neck. Connor tucked his chin against the top of his head and took a snotty sniffle while he unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to Connor’s clammy sternum as he undid his belt buckle and pulled it free from his jeans.

Gavin slowly rose to his feet and, a hand on the small of his back, guided his boyfriend to the bathroom and sat him down on the tiled edge of the tub. Not for the first time, he was glad they’d gone for the apartment with the giant jacuzzi tub. Not because he particularly cared for the jets, but because it meant they had a huge bathtub with spacious tiled edges. Connor shimmied out of his jeans and boxers and slid into the water until his chin was submerged. He closed his eyes, his breath blowing ripples across the surface of the water.

“I’ll be right back,” he picked up the discarded clothes off of the floor and tossed them into the hamper, then padded into the kitchen and checked on his soup. It was happily simmering, just a touch of steam fogging the microwave above the stove. He turned the heat down just a touch and took the Gatorade from the fridge.

Gavin returned to the bathroom to find Connor in exactly the same place he’d left him. He put the Gatorade next to Connor’s head and went to gather a change of clothes, swapping his jeans out for a pair of basketball shorts in the process. The lid cracked open on the bottle, followed by a short coughing fit.

Connor was sitting up when he returned, rubbing his knuckles across his chest and stifling another cough. He tossed the little pile of clothes onto the counter and scooted onto the back edge of the tub, dipping his feet into the water. Connor leaned back, tucking his shoulders between his shins and resting his head against the inside of Gavin’s knee.

“You okay?” Gavin slowly carded his fingers through his hair and scratched along his scalp.

Connor mumbled something he couldn’t hear, goosebumps rising along the tops of his arms when Gavin brushed the nape of his neck. Gavin eventually wet his hair and scrubbed shampoo through it, carefully using his fingertips to brush the suds away from his ears and off of his forehead. 

“Don’t you have a class due tonight?” Connor caught his eye as he sank down into the water to rinse his hair, leaving just his face above the surface. He hadn’t even thought about the stupid classwork.

“It’s possible,” Gavin leaned over him, resting one elbow on his knee and the other palm on the edge of the tub. “Doesn’t matter, though. Late policies exist.”

“Gavin,” Connor sat up out of the water to glare at him, though his look lacked its usual effect between his soaked water, bare skin and red-rimmed eyes. “You have classwork due and you’re sitting here babying me?”

“Connor,” he imitated his tone and made a face. “It’s fine. I’ve got a near-perfect grade and it’s ten percent off of whatever’s late. Besides, it’s just my master’s degree. It’s not anything life-altering.”

Connor splashed his leg and grabbed a towel off of the opposite end of the tub. “This is incredibly important for your career and you know it,” he coughed as he rubbed his hair dry.

Gavin resisted the urge to stick his chin out and argue, instead reaching through the water to release the drain in the tub. “I know. I know it’s stupid important, but you’re also stupid important, and you catching the flu outweighs some classwork.”

Connor sighed, looking at him with all of the love in the world. “Stupid important.” He stood up and wrapped the towel around his waist. “And I don’t have the flu. Just a cold.”

“Oh, you’ve got the flu,” Gavin shook his feet off as he swung them out of the tub. “That’s not a question.”

“It’s a cold,” Connor tossed the towel at him and tugged on the fresh change of clothes, albeit a little slower than normal. His opinion was a little biased, but Gavin thought he looked a thousand times better after a bath and a change of clothes. He seemed to feel a little better, too.

“You’re running a fever and just put on your pajamas like an old man,” he used the towel to finish drying his feet.

Connor snatched his Gatorade off of the edge of the tub. “Doesn’t mean it’s the flu,” he spun the cap off and took a swig. “I’ve never caught it before and don’t plan to start now."

“Admit you have the flu,” Gavin stood and walked with him to the bedroom, then pushed him into the kitchen before he could crawl back into bed. “You’re not going to bed until you eat something.”

Connor’s eyes landed on the stove and his pot of chicken soup, then drifted back up to Gavin’s, then back to the soup. He quietly turned and pulled out a stool at the counter, slapping his Gatorade bottle onto the counter with a little more force than necessary. Gavin didn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

And, even though Connor barely picked at the soup and left most of it for the fridge, Gavin was proud of himself. He’d done something nurturing without entirely fucking it up. Connor knocked back a capful of NyQuil and disappeared into the bedroom.

Gavin rinsed the dishes in the sink and left them for a later cleaning, instead opting to crawl into bed with his already half-asleep boyfriend. Even though his fever seemed to have settled for the time being, it was still plenty warm underneath the covers.

“Comfortable?” He gathered the covers a little closer around Connor and looped one arm around him. 

Connor curled up tighter and tucked his head under his chin. “Maybe,” he murmured.

“If you cough all night I’m going to sleep on the couch,” Gavin pressed his lips into his hair.

Connor grunted a response and snuggled just a bit closer. He could feel his eyelashes brushing just below his collarbone as he blinked, blinked, blinked, then shut his eyes. 

“I love you,” he mumbled after a beat. Gavin thought he’d immediately fallen asleep.

“I love me too,” he felt the smile spread across Connor’s face. “And you, too, I guess.” 

Connor gave a snotty snort and fell still again. Gavin kissed the top of his head and traced directionless patterns on his back until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He knew he was highly likely to wake up to coughing and a grouchy boyfriend, but he didn’t much mind.


End file.
